


The Ties That Bind Us

by dumbledearme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Vampire Academy Series - Richelle Mead
Genre: Crossover, Genderbending, Half-breeds, Stalia, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampires, Werewolves, myths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbledearme/pseuds/dumbledearme
Summary: AU. Guardians protect the half-breeds. Vampires are at war with the half-breeds. Stiles is Scott's guardian and he'd do anything for him. But they are taking his choices away. They are forcing his hand. And Stiles hates to be told what to do. Sciles. Scira. Stalia. Sterica. Maybe Stydia. Possible Void Stiles. In Beacon Hills Academy anything is possible.





	1. The Imbecile

**Author's Note:**

> Act I—"We all go a little mad sometimes..."

Stiles hadn't had a single good night of sleep in two years. Scott wouldn't let him. Or better saying, the guilt of Scott's haunted soul wouldn't let either of them rest in peace. Every night was the same. The same dream. The same nightmare. It pulsed into Stiles and shook him away from the gorgeous red-head that had been giving him a sponge bath (that was definitely what he called a dream) and wrapped him in the familiar images of the car crash.

His eyes opened. "Scott," Stiles called out in the darkness. There was no answer. Stiles called again, this time with more urgency. "Scott!" He heard his friend moving in the other bed and the tension left his body.

"I had that dream again," Scott justified without need.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I noticed."

They stayed there, quietly admiring the ceiling, until Scott decided to get up announcing his hunger to the world. Stiles sat up facing the window, attentively listening to Scott's footsteps. The moon was out and bright tonight; so bright in fact that Stiles could make out the silhouettes of trees and bushes.

And someone watching him.

Stiles stood up. The figure was about thirty feet away. It took just a moment for whoever it was to just disappear between the trees, but Stiles was sure of what he had seen. Icy fear raced through him and he bolted out of the room before you could have said 'mythological creatures suck'.

He found Scott rummaging through the refrigerator. "We have to go. Now."

Scott turned around, his eyes widening. "Are you… Are you sure?"

Stiles nodded, grabbing the car keys. Scott unhesitatingly followed him with complete faith that his friend would take care of everything. A certainty Stiles felt unworthy of.

They stepped outside, in their pajamas, their feet bare, their hands empty. Together they rushed down the street to where the car was parked. They could hear footsteps behind them. They were ten feet from the car when a girl stepped directly into their path.

She was young, maybe as young as they were. And tall for a girl, the type he could as well be dreaming about. A long, thick braid of brown hair fell down to her waist and she wore tight black clothes revealing her curves. Dark brown eyes pierced Stiles daring him to move.

Any other day, Stiles would'd considered asking her out. But his crush was irrelevant at the moment. Stiles realized they were surrounded. There were a dozen or so guardians, which was nice. It made Stiles feel like a threat. It meant they thought he was that good. The queen herself didn't travel with that many guardians! And they had thought it necessary to fight someone like Stiles.

With a cocky smile, he acted out of instinct. He leaped out in an offensive maneuver he hadn't used in two years. It was stupid and reckless. A reaction born out of false confidence. And, as it turned out, also hopeless considering the girl's speed. She knocked him off as though brushing away a fly. Her hands slammed into his chest sending Stiles backwards. He slammed onto the floor, gasping. He tried to get back up, but suddenly Scott was kneeling beside him.

"Don't," he asked.

Stiles sagged in defeat.

Sensing there'd be no more fighting from him, the girl stepped forward, turning her attention to Scott. "I'm Malia Tate," she said formally. "I'm here to take you back to the Academy, Mr McCall."

She made a point of sitting beside Stiles in the airplane. He didn't care. He knew it was so she could watch him and make sure he wouldn't try to escape, but unfortunately, Malia Tate also wanted to talk.

"Were you really going to attack us all?" she asked with an amused type of curiosity. Instead of answering, Stiles stared out the window absentmindedly. "Wow," she continued sounding unimpressed. "You imbecile. Why did you even try?"

Stiles glanced at her. He knew he was blushing and that angered him. "I'm his guardian," he said with as much dignity as the title could grant someone.

Malia Tate turned serious. "Well, it was stupid," she remarked, "but really brave." She moved, scanning the airplane for threats or something, and Stiles caught a glimpse of a tiny symbol tattooed on the back of her neck. The mark of a vampire slayer.

He pointed at it. "When did you get…?" The look she gave him made perfectly clear she was not going to discuss that with him. Stiles didn't insist, but thought the tattoo looked quite new. "Aren't you a little young to be a guardian?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm not licensed," he admitted.

Her face softened. "I know. You haven't graduated yet."

"And you have?"

"With honors," she added pompously. "I had enough credits to graduate earlier. This is my first official assignment though."

"Congrats," he mumbled with jealousy thinking he would do anything to graduate early. Anything but study, that is.

When they arrived, Stiles asked Malia if they were being taken to Finstock.

"Principal Finstock," she corrected.

"I don't give a–" His words were cut short when they went through a set of doors right into the cafeteria. And it was breakfast time. Novice guardians and the half-breeds raised their heads to watch them come through. Stiles returned their stares with a lazy grin.

Everything looked the same, he noticed.

Jackson Whittemore still looked like the major jerk he was when Scott and Stiles left. Kate Argent, that shy girl, watched them with big, innocent eyes. Erica Reyes, who loved breaking rules, smiled and gave them the thumbs up. Hayden Romero, who always had a major crush on Scott, looked as hot as ever and watched them with interest. The only difference was that beside her now sat a golden haired boy who gave Scott and Stiles a look of pure hatred.

Stiles had no memory of ever wronging that boy. Or ever seeing him for that matter. But all badasses had enemies, right? Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that.

The walk of shame ended in Finstock's office. He looked exactly like Stiles remembered – pug faced, unkempt hair, crazy eyes. His office was just as disorganized. Stiles hated the place. He had spent a great amount of time in there.

"Scott." There was someone else in the room. Gerard Argent stepped out of the shadows, moving with difficulty.

"Gerard," said Scott greeting the family friend.

"I'm glad to see you safe, boy. And you, Stiles."

Stiles nodded back, trying to hide his shock. Gerard Argent looked on the verge of dying. He was Kate's father, only about forty, but he looked twice that age. Pale. Withered. Stiles wondered if he was going through one of those skin changes snakes did. He was a Nix after all; a shapeshifting water spirit.

"…responsibility reckless behavior!" Finstock was saying. "Self-centeredness…" Bleh. Stiles completely spaced out until the man shouted his name again. "Are you listening to me, Stilinski?"

Stiles blinked. "Yeah, sure."

"It wasn't his fault," ventured Scott. His voice and face were calm. "I wanted to go. It was my idea."

Finstock paced the office. "Mr McCall, you could have been the one who orchestrated the entire plan for all I know, but it was still Mr Stilinski's responsibility to make sure you didn't carry it out. If he'd done his duty, he would have notified someone. If he'd done his duty, he would've kept you safe."

"I did nothing but my duty!" snapped Stiles. "I kept him safe. For two years. I kept him safe when none of you could do it. I took him away to protect him. I did what I had to do-"

"Forgive me if I fail to see the logic of how taking Mr McCall out of a heavily guarded, magically secured environment is protecting him, Stilinski!" shouted Finstock. "The only reason you left, aside from the novelty of it, was to avoid the consequences of that horrible, destructive stunt you pulled just before—"

"That's not—"

"And that only makes my decision that much easier. Mr McCall must continue here for his own safety, but we have no such obligations to you. You will be sent away as soon as possible."

"I… what?"

Scott straightened up. "You can't do that. He's my guardian!"

"He is no such thing, particularly since he isn't even a guardian at all. He's a novice."

"But my parents—"

"I know what they wanted, Mr McCall, but Stilinski here is quite expendable. He doesn't deserve to be a guardian, and he will leave. God, if you were a magical being, Stilinski, you'd be a Puck. Mischievous little bastards—"

Stiles stared at Finstock. "Where are you going to send me? To my dad? You know what's gonna happen if you do that, right? He's just gonna send me right back!"

"They have a bond," Malia Tate said suddenly before Finstock could reply. All eyes fell on her but she didn't seem to care. She looked Stiles dead in the face. "You feel what he fells, don't you? You see what he sees."

Finstock glanced between Stiles and Scott. "That's not possible. It hasn't happened in—"

"I suspected as soon as I started watching them," said Malia.

"That is a gift," murmured Gerard Argent from his corner. "A rare wonderful thing."

"Only the best guardians had that bond," added Malia. "You taught us that, Principal Finstock. You said, in the stories-"

"Stories are no more than that!" exclaimed Finstock outraged. "And remember your place, Guardian Tate, you have barely left the Academy."

"Forgive me if I have given any offense. I merely meant that... he might be mentally challenged and disrespectful, but if he has the potential—"

"Mentally challenged? Disrespectful?" interrupted Stiles. "Who the hell are you anyway? You can't talk to me like that. I-"

Again, they didn't let him finish. "Guardian Tate, with the success of this rescue operation, has been granted the position you so desire, Stilinski. She is now Mr McCall's guardian. His sanctioned guardian."

"Why? What does she know? Because she got good grades, she's better than me? Please. She knows nothing about Scott. How is she going to protect him?"

Finstock threw his hands up in exasperation. "You undisciplined little—! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world wouldn't make me keep you here if you paid me, Stilinski! A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian."

"Then teach him," pushed Malia. "Get him training again."

"Impossible. He'll be hopelessly behind his peers."

"No, I won't!"

"Then give him extra training sessions," insisted Malia. Stiles raised an eyebrow. He tried to control his anger. She was pushing so hard he wondered what she had to gain with that.

"Who's going to put in the extra time?" demanded Finstock. "Everybody hates Stilinski. Unless… unless you're offering…?"

Malia stumbled in her own words. "I… Well, that's not what I—"

Finstock smiled. "See? He's not worth it."

Clearly at a loss, Malia frowned. Her eyes flickered toward Scott and Stiles, and the latter wondered what she was seeing. "Yes," she said finally. "I'll teach him. I'll give extra sessions along with the normal ones."

Nobody said anything else. Everyone seemed quite shocked.

Then Gerard Argent suddenly spoke. "I'm inclined to agree with Guardian Tate. Sending Stiles away would be a shame, a waste of talent."

Finstock wanted to die. "If Stilinski stays, here's how it will be." The crazy eyes focused on Stiles. "Your continued enrollment is probationary. Step out of line once and you're gone. You will attend all classes and required training for novices your age. You will also train with Guardian Tate in every spare moment you have: before and after classes. Other than that, you are banned from all social activities, except meals. Listen to me, Stilinski, I don't ever want to see your face in this office again. Ever again. You were never properly punished for destroying school property. You have a lot to make up for."

Stiles exhaled. "Fine. I'll behave," he promised.


	2. The Usurpers

Sending them straight to class was super cruel but Stiles could see how much Finstock enjoyed doing that. And worse: he actually made Stiles go see the guidance counselor first! Marin Morrell had dark skin, straight black hair and brown dead-fish eyes. She was that kind of person who always answered your questions with more questions. Luckily, she said nothing about Stiles's return and asked very few questions about what he had done while away. She gave him his new schedule and sent him on his way.

Malia and another guardian, Chris Argent (no relation to Gerard or Kate), escorted Stiles to the guardian's gym for first period. Since seventy percent of the people in Beacon Hills Academy were creatures of the night, they all had to take on a night's schedule. Seeing the sun was a luxury most of them didn't have.

Once there, again all eyes fell on Stiles. He thought better to pretend he was a rock-god, although some of the looks he was getting made him feel like a circus freak. But he wasn't going to let them intimidate him. He'd once ruled this school! Of course most of the credit was due Scott's status, but still...

Stiles scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Most of them were guys. Typical. But one of the few girls caught his eye and he grinned.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Stilinski," she said faking annoyance. "If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your free time."

A few snorts and snickers broke the awed silence. Erica Reyes was looking good. Her crazy-looking blond hair went in all directions but Stiles had to admit it was kind of hot. She set her sexy cat-like eyes on him and everything felt like it was before.

He stepped forward with a shrug. "It's always free time for me, E."

"Well, I guess now as good time as any" she muttered.

"It's always a good a time to think about you naked, Erica," added Boyd, another one of Stiles's friends.

Malia Tate shook her head and walked off. Chris Argent followed her. As for Stiles, he was glad, his friends made him feel right at home. The instructor then barked orders for all of them and Erica picked Stiles as her partner. "Let's see what you've been doing all this time." An hour later, she had her answer. "Not practicing, huh?" Erica extended a hand and helped Stiles up from the mat.

"I hate you," Stiles told her, staggering along as the class put the equipment back.

"Well, of course you do. But hey, you're still walking. That's something." She grinned mockingly. Then her face turned serious. "What are you going to do now, Stiles? There's no way you'll be able to take your trials in the spring. Not like this."

"They're making me take extra practice sessions," he explained. "I'll be ready."

"Extra sessions with whom?"

"That tall girl. Tate."

Erica stopped walking and stared at him. "You're putting in extra time with Tate?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So the girl's insane. Don't you remember her? She was a foreign student, right? All quiet and antisocial? Barely left her dorm and used to kick everybody's asses? We all hated her, remember? I guess she was so lonely she put on so much extra time she graduated earlier. Man, she's going to destroy you!"

Stiles had the vague memory of the person Erica described. Only he didn't remember her being so pretty. Or maybe he never really noticed her before...

The next class covered the essentials of being a bodyguard of magical creatures. The instructor, Adrian Harris, was around his thirties and he always looked pissed off. That look intensified when he saw Stiles.

"Stilinski, what a privilege! How very generous of you to take time out of your busy schedule and share your knowledge with us."

In a great show of self-control, Stiles kept his mouth shut. He was perfectly aware that a few guardians, including Malia Tate, lingered in the back of the room. Outside the Academy, guardians focused on one-on-one protection. Here, they worked shifts guarding the school as a whole and monitoring classes.

"So, Stilinski," said Harris cheerfully. "Enlighten us about your protective techniques. Presumably you must have had some sort of plan the rest of us couldn't understand when you took an underage half-breed royal out of the Academy and exposed him to constant threats."

"We never ran into any vamps," Stiles replied stiffly.

"That is obvious," said Harris with a snicker, "seeing as how you're still alive." Stiles didn't respond. "So what'd you do? How'd you make sure McCall stayed safe? Did you avoid going out at night? I suppose you slept during the day and stayed on guard at night."

Stiles hesitated. "Er... no."

"No? But that's one of the first things mentioned in the chapter on solo guarding. Oh wait... you wouldn't know that because you weren't here."

"Look, I kept Scott safe," said Stiles angrily. "I watched him. He's still alive, isn't he?"

Harris crossed his arms. "Because you got lucky."

Stiles shook his head. "It's safer out there than you guys make it sound."

"Safer? We're at war with the usurpers!" Harris yelled. "A full-grown vampire could walk right up to you and snap your neck before you even noticed him. You might have the advantage of not being harmed by the sun, but you are nothing compared to the Cold Ones. They are deadly, and they are powerful. And do you know what makes them more powerful?"

"Magical blood," Stiles answered begrudgingly.

Harris nodded in satisfaction. "Yes. It does. It makes them stronger and harder to destroy. They'll kill and drink from humans, but they want magical blood more than anything else. They seek it. They've turned to the dark side to gain immortality, and they want to do whatever they can to keep it. Groups of Cold Ones have raided academies exactly like this one. There are those who are almost impossible to kill. And that is why our numbers are dropping. We aren't strong enough."

Stiles stared at his own hands. He knew Harris was waiting for him to start yelling, throwing things, making hell. He was not going to give him the satisfaction.

"Well," said Harris watching Stiles carefully. "It looks like you've learned something after all: how to control your temper. Now we'll have to see if you can learn enough to pass this class and qualify for your field experience next semester."

Two classes later, Stiles finally earned his breakfast escape. He stumbled across campus toward the commons, when Malia Tate fell into step beside him.

"Wanna teach me a lesson too?" he asked.

"No," she said dryly. "I was just wondering... Was Guardian Harris right? Do you think you were fully prepared to protect Scott McCall out there?"

Stiles stopped walking. "I did keep him alive," he told her.

"How did you do fighting against your classmates today?"

Stiles didn't answer and knew he didn't need to. He'd had another training class after Harris's, and no doubt Malia Tate had watched him get beat up there too.

"If you can't fight them-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he snapped.

"You have the necessary skills. You just need to keep yourself trained. Didn't you play any sports while you were gone?"

Stiles shrugged. "Now and then."

"You didn't join any teams?"

"If I'd wanted to practice that much, I'd have stayed here."

Malia Tate gave Stiles an exasperated look. "You'll never be able to really protect McCall if you don't hone your skills. You'll always be lacking."

"I am able to protect him," Stiles said fiercely.

"You have no guarantees of being assigned to him, you know, for your field experience or after you graduate." Malia's voice was low and unapologetic. "No one wants to waste the bond, but no one's going to give him an inadequate guardian either. If you want to be with him, then you need to work for it. You're an ideal choice to guard Scott McCall when you both graduate, if you can prove you're worthy."

Malia Tate walked away, and suddenly, Stiles didn't feel like such a badass anymore. He was about to resume his way to the commons when a voice called to him. "Mr Argent... uh... Your Highness," he mumbled. "Hi."

Gerard Argent smiled as he leaned on a cane. His two guardians stood nearby. "I wanted to tell you..." he spoke hesitantly. "I understand the gravity of what you did, but I think Principal Finstock failed to acknowledge something. You did keep Scott safe all this time. That is impressive."

"Well, it's not like I had to face vampires or anything."

"But you faced some things?"

"A troll."

"Remarkable."

"Not really. Avoiding trolls is pretty easy. They're quite dumb. But I guess I was lucky. It turns out I'm really behind in all this guardian stuff."

"You're a smart boy. You'll catch up. And you also have your... bond."

Stiles looked away. It felt weird to have others know about it.

"The histories are full of stories of guardians who could feel when their charges were in danger," continued Gerard. "I've made a hobby of studying up on it and some of the ancient ways. I've heard it's a tremendous asset."

What a boring hobby, Stiles thought, but didn't say anything.

Gerard tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. "What is it like... if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's... I don't know. I just sort of always have this hum of how he feels. Usually it's just emotions. We can't send messages."

"But it doesn't work the other way? Scott doesn't sense you?"

Stiles shook his head.

Gerard face shone with wonder. "I can still barely believe this. It's been so long since this has happened. If it did happen more often... just think what it could do for the safety of all magic folk. If only others could experience this too. I'll have to do more research and see if we can replicate it with others."

Stiles was getting impatient. Breakfast hour was ticking away.

"Perhaps we could-" Gerard started coughing, a great, seizing fit that made his whole body shake. "I'll be leaving you now," he gasped. "Thank you for speaking to me. I can't emphasize how much it means to me that Scott is safe, and that you helped with that."

They made their goodbyes, and Stiles finally arrived inside the school just in time to see Scott getting punched in the face by the blond boy that seemed to hate them so much. Cursing, Stiles jumped in the middle of that chaos. He pulled the boy from Scott and threw him over one of the tables.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gold Guy got up, blue eyes wide and sparkling with fury. He was short and looked like a ten year old who had worked out more than he should have.

"Are you lost?" asked Stiles. "Elementary school's over on west campus."

A pink flush spread over his cheeks. "Don't you ever touch me again. You screw with me, and I'll screw you right back."

Oh man... what an opening that was. Stiles had his mouth open already when Scott stopped him from unleashing hilarious comebacks. But Stiles wasn't nearly done. "And if you mess with either of us again, I'll break you in half. If you don't believe me, go ask Greenberg about what I did to his arm in ninth grade. You were probably at nap time when it happened."

The incident with Greenberg had given Stiles a dangerous reputation, in addition to his smartass one. And judging from the look on this boy's face, he'd heard about it. With another look of pure hatred, the guy walked away.

Suddenly very pleased with himself, Stiles turned to Scott. "Any idea who I just threatened to beat up?"


	3. The Pity Party

"So how'd classes go?" asked Stiles.

Scott shrugged. He'd been real quiet during the rest of breakfast time. Werewolves were quite serious about their meal. "Lots of stares. A lot of stares. Lots of questions about where we were. Whispering."

Stiles gave Scott a sidelong glance. "You okay with that? They aren't bothering you, are they?"

"No - it's fine." The emotions coming through the bond contradicted his words. Stiles was about to push him when someone sat at their table. Kate Argent. Stiles and Scott exchanged looks. Kate was nice but also one of the most uninteresting people they knew. Pretty, but her looks weren't worth having to listen to her. She threw her arms around them like they'd been good friends.

"You're back! I knew you would be! Everyone said you were gone forever, but I never believed that. I knew you couldn't stay away. Why'd you go? There are so many stories about why you left! Someone said you went off to hang out with Stiles's dad, but I figured Principal Finstock and Daddy wouldn't have been so upset if you'd turned up there. So..." On and on she chatted, batting her eyelashes. Stiles smiled politely and let Scott deal with the onslaught.

Ignoring the conversation, Stiles took in the old faces, trying to figure out who was hanging out with whom and how power had shifted within the school. Erica, sitting with a group of novices, caught his eye, and Stiles smiled. Near her, a group of half-breeds sat, laughing over something. Hayden Romero and the blond guy sat there too.

"Hey, Kate," said Stiles, turning around and cutting her off. She didn't seem to notice or mind. "Who's Hayden's new boytoy?"

"Huh? Oh. Liam Dunbar." Seeing Stiles's blank look, she asked, "Don't you remember him?"

Apparently, there was a whole group of people Stiles didn't remember. "Should I? Was he here when we left?"

"He's always been here," said Kate. "He's only a year younger than us."

Stiles glanced at Scott, who only shrugged. "Why is he so pissed off at us?" he asked. "Neither of us know him."

"I don't know," answered Kate. "Maybe he's jealous about Hayden. He wasn't much of anybody when you guys left. He got really popular really fast. I think he's an undine...? And once he started dating Hayden, he - "

"Okay, thanks," Stiles interrupted wishing she'd just shut up already.

Scott and Stiles got to sit together in their shared morning classes but didn't do much talking. The stares and the whispers certainly did follow them, but slowly, gradually, people seemed to remember who they were, and the novelty of their crazy escape wore off. But none of that made Scott feel better. Stiles could feel anxiety and sadness pouring out of him.

"All right," he said when classes finally ended. "We're not staying here. I'm going to find a way to get us out."

"You think we could really do it a second time?" Scott asked quietly.

"Absolutely." Stiles spoke with certainty, again relieved Scott couldn't read his feelings. Escaping again would be a real bitch.

"You really would, wouldn't you?" Scott smiled. "Of course you would. It's just, well... I don't know if we should go. Maybe... maybe we should stay."

Stiles blinked in astonishment. "What?"

"I saw you, Stiles. You miss this. Practicing and everything."

"It's not worth it," Stiles argued. "Not if... not if you..." he couldn't finish. Stiles had missed the other novices. He'd missed the Academy. But there was more to it than just that. The weight of his inexperience, how much he'd fallen behind. Part of him felt like it was irresponsible to put Scott under his care when he couldn't even keep up with class.

"It might be better," Scott countered. "I haven't had as many... you know, I haven't felt like anyone was following or watching me."

Stiles didn't say anything to that. After the car crash that had killed his parents, Scott started to feel depressed and paranoid. He always felt like someone was following him, like he was being hunted. Stiles had never seen evidence to support that, but once he'd heard one of the teachers go on and on about the same sort of thing. Peter Hale.

"You never know who's watching," Peter Hale used to say. "Or who's following you. Best to be safe. Best to always be safe."

Stiles was pretty sure Peter had been crazy.

He sighed. "We can stay, I guess... but there are a few conditions. I want you to stay away from the royals." There were a few families of half-breeds that were considered royalty. This included the McCalls, the Argents, the Romeros, the Hales and some of the others. The ones who were usually the target of the vampire war. If the Cold Ones could eliminate all the royals, then they would be free to rule the rest of the magical folk.

"Are you serious?" asked Scott.

"Sure. You never liked them anyway."

Scott's eyes stared off, not really focused on any one thing. "I've... I've got to be a part of them. I can't avoid it."

"The hell you do. Kate stays out of that stuff."

"Kate isn't going to inherit her family's title," Scott retorted. "I've already got it. I've got to be involved, start making connections."

"You know what? You keep me around to tell you the truth, and here it is: everyone you love is dead. I'm sorry. But you're the heir now, and you're going to deal with it however you can and not how they used to do. And for now, that means staying away from the other royals. We'll just lie low. Coast through the middle. Get involved in that stuff again, Scott, and you'll drive yourself..."

"Crazy?" he supplied. "Fine. We'll stay and we'll keep out of all that stuff like you want."

That wasn't exactly what Stiles wanted. He wanted to go to all the royal parties and wild drunken festivities like they'd done before. It was easy for him, because he didn't really have to deal with the politics of it. He was smart, outgoing, and didn't mind getting into trouble and pulling crazy stunts. The others liked having him around for the fun of it. Scott had to deal with other matters. The McCalls were one of the twelve ruling families. He'd have a very powerful place in magical society, and the other young royals wanted to get in good with him. But all that had eventually taken its toll on Scott, and Stiles hated to see him upset and stressed.

"All right then," he said finally. "We'll see how this goes. If anything goes wrong... anything at all... we leave. No arguments."

Scott nodded.

"Stiles?" Malia Tate appeared behind them. "You're late for practice," she said. Seeing Scott, she gave a polite nod. "Mr McCall."

Stiles was following her across campus when it happened. He'd been worrying about Scott because his emotions spiked all over the place. Confusion. Nostalgia. Fear. Anticipation. Strong and powerful, they pulled Stiles into Scott's mind.

Scott walked slowly around the commons, toward the small Orthodox chapel that served most of the school's religious needs. Glancing around, he verified that neither the priest nor any worshippers were close by. The place was empty. Slipping through a doorway in the back of the chapel, he climbed a narrow set of creaky stairs up into the attic. Here, the only light came through a large stained-glass window.

The anxiety in Scott ebbed away slightly as he took in the familiar surroundings. He climbed up into the window seat and leaned his head back against its side. Most of the night creatures hated the sun or couldn't be exposed to it. Not Scott; he actually liked it. And here, protected by the glass's dilution of the rays he could enjoy the sunlight.

Then a low voice spoke from the darkness. "You can have the Academy but not the window seat."

Scott sprang up, heart pounding. "Who's there?"

A shape rose from behind a stack of crates. A Japonese girl, with straight black hair and brown eyes. Kira Yukimura. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't bite."

Scott realized he had completely forgotten about Kira. So had Stiles. But no matter what happened in their world, a few basic truths about mythological creatures remained the same: they were good, they were alive. Vampires, on the other hand, were undead. The ones like Scott, they were mortal; vampires were immortal. And anyone could be made into a vampire, that was the worst part. Some people even choose to be turned into one. Doing that was considered dark and twisted, the greatest of all sins against nature.

And that's what Kira's parents had done. A lot of people thought they were responsible for the attacks on royals. Then a regiment of guardians had hunted them down and killed them. If rumors were true, Kira had witnessed it all. And although she wasn't a vampire herself, some people thought she wasn't far off.

After all, she was also the niece of one Peter Hale. It was a recipe for disaster.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked.

"Taking in the sights, of course. That chair with the tarp on it is particularly lovely this time of year. Over there, we have an old box full of writings of the. And let's not forget that beautiful table with no legs in the corner."

Scott rolled his eyes and moved toward the door, wanting to leave, but Kira blocked the way.

"Well, what about you?" she taunted. "Why are you up here? Don't you have parties to go to or lives to destroy?"

"Wow, that's fantastic. Some guy I don't even know sucker-punched me in the cafeteria today, and now I've got to deal with you? What does it take to be left alone?"

"Ooooh, so that's why you're up here. For a pity party."

"This isn't a joke. I'm serious."

Kira shrugged and leaned casually against the sloping wall. "So am I. I love pity parties. I wish I'd brought the hats. What do you want to mope about first? How it's going to take you a whole day to be popular and loved again?"

Scott made a sour face before pushing Kira aside.

"Wait," she said, the sarcasm gone from her voice. "What... um, what was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Being out there. Away from Beacon Hills."

Scott hesitated. "It was great. No one knew who I was. I was just another face. Not a werewolf. Not royal. Not anything."

"It's kind of hard to outlive your past, isn't it?" Kira said bitterly.

Scott started to feel bad for her. People treated her like she didn't exist. Like she was a ghost. They didn't talk to or about her. They just didn't notice her. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, "Wait... is this your pity party now?"

Kira laughed. "I have to make sure I stay near the chapel as much as possible so people know I'm not a vampire." Vampires couldn't step on holy ground.

"I remember," said Scott. "You've always attended mess. Is that the only reason you go? To look good?"

"Sure," she said. "Why else go? For the good of my soul?"

Scott smiled. "I'll leave you alone then."

"Wait," she said again. She didn't seem to want him to go. "Look, go grab the window seat. You can have it today and hang out for a while. We can share."

Scott seemed glad about that. Gingerly, he sat back down in the window seat. Kira watched him and Scott met her eyes. He smiled again; she was cute.

Then Stiles snapped out of the vision. Ugh, typical Scott. So much for staying away from royals.


	4. The Heathen

"Stiles? Stiles?" Blinking, Stiles focused on Malia's face. She was leaning toward him, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"I... yeah. I was... I was with Scott..." Stiles put a hand to his forehead. "I was in his head."

"His... head?"

"Yeah. It's part of the psychic bond."

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's... not in danger."

"Can you keep going?" The hard, stoic warrior was gone, just for a moment, and she actually looked concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Stiles went into the gym and suggested to Malia that maybe she should let him off this time. She laughed, and it was a pretty laugh, but Stiles felt like she was laughing more at him than rather with him.

"Why is that funny?"

"Oh," she said, her smile dropping. "You were serious."

"Look, I've technically been awake for two days. Why do we have to start this training now? Let me go to bed," Stiles whined. "It's just one hour."

Malia crossed her arms and looked down at Stiles. Her earlier concern was gone. "How do you feel right now? After the training you've done so far?"

"I hurt like hell."

"You'll feel worse tomorrow."

"So?"

"So, better to jump in now while you still feel... not as bad."

"What kind of logic is that?" he retorted, but he didn't argue anymore as Malia led him into the weight room. She showed him the weights and reps she wanted him to do, then sprawled in a corner with a book. When Stiles finished, Malia stood beside him and demonstrated a few cool-down stretches. Stiles watched her, and she was so pretty he scolded himself for never having noticed her before. She looked almost... exotic.

"Where are you from?" he asked. "You don't look... eh, American..."

She didn't answer right away. Stiles got the feeling she didn't talk about herself often.

"Nazilli."

"Oh. Cool. I once saw this documentary about the Nazis and... Wait... Where the hell is that again?"

A glint of something, maybe amusement, sparked in her dark eyes. "Turkey."

"Nice," Stiles said. "And... did you help come up with the plan to get us back? Because it was pretty good. Brute force and all that."

Malia arched an eyebrow curiously. "You're complimenting me on capturing you?"

"Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the last one they tried."

"Last one?"

"Yeah. In Portland. You know, the troll."

She frowned. "This was the first time we found you."

Stiles sat up from his stretches. "Um, I don't think I imagined that troll. He smelled pretty badly. Who else could have sent him? Maybe no one told you about it."

"Maybe," she said dismissively.

Stiles returned to the novices' dorm after that. The novices' dorm was built in a more open way than the rest of the school, allowing for more light, something Stiles was incredibly thankful for. He had his own room because there were so few novices. It was small and plain, with a twin bed and a desk with a computer. His few belongings sat in boxes around the room.

Someone had let a note on his pillow. It was short: Glad you're back. What you did was inexcusable. Dad. Shaking his head, Stiles smashed the note and threw it in the trash can.

He went to bed and passed out. Just as Malia had predicted, he felt ten times worse when he woke up the next morning. But he figured the only way to prevent getting his ass kick again was to go endure some more training. He survived the before-school practice with Malia and his subsequent classes without passing out.

Later, outside science class, Stiles told Scott he saw him with Kira Yukimura.

"You were in my head again?" Scott exclaimed. "For that long?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Stiles argued. "It just happen-" Stiles got distracted when he realized the corridor he was in. Peter Hale, back in the day, used to wander campus a lot. It was pretty creepy. Stiles had run into him once, unexpectedly, in this corridor. It was after hours and everyone was supposed to be in their rooms, but Stiles went out to hang out with some people.

"You should be more careful," Peter Hale had said. "Your instructors would be disappointed." Being in class with Peter Hale while surrounded by other students was one thing. Standing outside alone with him was an entirely different matter. But instead of calling someone, Peter Hale only smiled. "Go back to your dorm, Stiles. There are bad things out here. You never know what's following you."

Stiles jumped back to the present, unsettled by the memory of that night. Scott, in the meantime, was telling him about Kira. As much as the two of them hanging out bothered Stiles, it gave him an idea.

The next day, he rushed to Finstock office. Finstock raised his crazy eyes from some paperwork. "Remember when I said I NEVER wanted to see-"

"I just need to ask you something," cut Stiles.

Finstock closed his eyes for a moment and took deep relaxing breaths. "Yes, Stilinski?"

"Does my house arrest mean I can't go to church?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said that whenever I'm not in class or practice, I have to stay in the dorm. But what about church on Sundays? I don't think it's really fair to keep me away from my religious, um, needs."

Finstock looked really annoyed. "I wasn't aware you had any religious needs."

"I found Jesus while I was gone."

"Isn't your father an atheist?" he asked skeptically.

"My mom was a Christian. And anyway, I can choose my own path. You shouldn't keep me from it."

Finstock made a noise that sort of sounded like a snicker. "No, Stilinski, I should not. You may attend services on Sundays."

Stiles was glad. Church was every bit as lame as he remembered but he did get to sit next to Scott which made him feel like he was getting away with something. Mostly he just people-watched. Kira sat on the opposite side of the aisle, pretending to be just as holy as she'd said. Malia sat in the back, face lined with shadows. Stiles wondered if she even listened to the service. He tuned in and out.

"Following God's path is never easy," the priest was saying. "Specially to us, half-breeds. Some of us feel like they are unworthy of the light. That is not true. We all have our place. We are not abominations. Even the regular folk, the humans, our guardians, are enthralled just to be in our presence. If you follow the path of the light, you can have great spirit. You can stop floods. You can heal people. You can be good too."

Stiles took a nap just then. When he woke up, Hayden Romero was sitting beside Scott, whispering something.

"You're kidding," Scott whispered back.

Hayden shook her head. "Nope."

Scott turned. "Stiles, you know Jackson Whittemore's dad? His guardian wants to resign. And marry another guardian."

Now that was a scandal!

"Seriously? Are they, like, going to run off together?"

Hayden nodded. "They're getting a house. Going to get jobs with humans, I guess."

Stiles was impressed. Those guardians were fighting the system they'd been trained to believe in their entire lives. Guardians weren't allowed to be married, unless it was to the half-breed they protected, but that hardly ever happened. Their priority should be the half-breed they were assigned to protect. They were required to have at least one kid and send them be raised by a magical family so they could grow to be a guardian too. For Stiles, it had been the McCalls. He never saw his dad because the man was too busy being a guardian. And seeing his example, Stiles believed wholeheartedly that it was a guardian's job to protect his charge. Above anything else. Above everything else.

Mr Whittemore's guardian was abandoning his duties because of a whim. And now two magical families would be unprotected. And what for? A fling? Particularly one that involved running away? A complete waste. A disgrace.

When Scott and Stiles stepped outside, a pile of slush slid off the chapel's roof and onto them. Very wet and very cold. Stiles yelped as icy water landed on his hair and neck. Stiles glanced up as Liam Dunbar walked over and looped his arm around Hayden's neck. Stiles remembered what Kate Argent had said about Liam being an undine.

From what Stiles knew, undines were elemental beings associated with water. They were almost invariably depicted as being female, which was maybe why this guy kind of looked like a girl. And if Stiles recalled perfectly, undines acquired their souls by falling in love. But there was a catch: if the person they loved was unfaithful, the undine was fated to die. Stiles didn't know how much of this was true and how much was a myth, but it was likely the reason why Liam Dunbar was trying so hard to keep Hayden away from Scott.

"You know, Finstock will probably have something to say when he finds out you used magic against another student," Stiles pointed out.

"That wasn't an attack," Liam scoffed. "And it wasn't me. It was an act of God."

A few others laughed.

"Oh, yeah?" said Stiles taking a step toward him. "So is this," and he slammed Liam into the side of the church. But before he could do anything else (like smash the guy's face), Scott grabbed him from behind and pulled Stiles away. "Let's go," he muttered.

They walked off toward the dorms, leaving behind laughter and jokes. "You know," he said, "I'm thinking more and more that you stealing Hayden back is a good thing," he joked.

Scott looked serious. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"I'm not interested in revenge." Scott cut Stiles a sidelong look. "And you shouldn't be either."

Stiles smiled as innocently as he could, and when they parted ways, he felt relieved again that Scott couldn't read his thoughts.

"So when's the big fight going to happen?" Erica was waiting for Stiles outside the dorm.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, I saw you guys sparring outside the chapel. Have you no respect for the house of God?"

Stiles snorted. "You've got about as much respect for it as I do, you heathen. You didn't even go."

"And you still didn't answer the question. Tell me, Stiles, are you just going to turn around and punch him one day?"

"If I do that, I'll have broken my probation with Finstock. Gotta walk the straight and narrow."

"Then find some way to get back at him without getting into trouble." A wicked smile tug at the corners of her lips.

"You know what I like about you, Erica? You and I are the same."

Erica looked smug. "Only I'm smarter. And I might know something about him." Stiles leaned forward. "His parents work for one of the royals. Cleaning stuff. Practically servants. His dad cuts grass, and his mom's a maid."

Stiles actually had a healthy respect for anyone who pulled a full day's work, regardless of the job. People everywhere had to do crappy stuff to make a living. But Liam Dunbar was trying to pass himself off as something he was not.

"No one knows?" he asked thoughtfully.

"And he doesn't want them to," said Erica. "They'd give him a hard time over it. You know how these people are."

Stiles was thoughtful. "Don't we all?"

**Author's Note:**

> I do NOT OWN anything related to the worlds of Teen Wolf or Vampire Academy. I don't own the characters and I don't own the stories. I don't intend to gain anything from this. It's just for fun, people. No need to be mean if you don't like it. Just tell me and we can discuss it or work something out.
> 
> So the rights belong to Richelle Mead who wrote Vampire Academy and Jeff Davis who wrote Teen Wolf.


End file.
